Compass Kidnapper
by H34T
Summary: One by one, Alfred's CSI team disappears without a trace. With only compasses and notes as evidence, will he and the remaining people be able detain the criminal before all of them are taken out? And will a family torn apart by war be able to heal itself?
1. South

The Compass Kidnapper

South

In the stillness of the evening air, dust stirred as a man walked through the rundown house, his feet uncaringly stepping on shattered glass. His heart rang with the pain and guilt of that fateful day four years ago. He knew that the pain ran deeper than the bullet that was once buried in his chest.

A stray, warm breeze swept through the room, kicking up dust that had sat still for ages. The lights failed to stay lit, flickering on and off on their own accord. Under the dim glow of those who still had the will to shine, the man made his way to his desk and stiffly held the pen in his hand. The words 'I'm Sorry' scratched into a crumpled piece of paper in blood red ink.

Time passed as his brain failed to register how and when he ended up in the garage. He didn't care though, mindlessly running his fingers down the ridges of the thick rope. He began to see everything in great detail, like how he was taught to at the age of 14. He ran the rope through a vat of a fragment liquid, relishing the few, sweet memories that arose from the smell. As the crickets cried outside, he took in a deep breath and whispered out,

"I'm Sorry"

* * *

The sound of a ferry horn was all too familiar to New Yorkers, who have learned to tune out the annoying sound, unless they were running late for the ferry; then it was more like a dreadful bell. Tourist and residents alike bustled in the vibrant city's street as street venders shouted out their goods. Anything your stomach desired could be found in the heart of Brooklyn.

"There you go sir, one buttermilk scone and a cup of Earl Gray tea." The old man smiled at the British youth, a regular who came by every day and had been for the last eight years.

"Thank you." He nodded and paid the vender, making we way against the torrent of people

The blond was dressed up in a suit, being the gentleman he was, and strolled down the street as if he owned them, once the crowed had thinned out that is. He grinned against the British pastry, savoring the small victory he had won. The man's scones were the best in New York City; he knew all too well that the vender would sell out within the first two hours of being open. If he was a moment too late, he would've missed out on his favorite buttermilk delight.

"Artie! Artie!"

His little slice of heaven was ruined by a familiar voice shouting his most hated pet name.

"What do you want you git?" he shouted at the black car that pulled up next to him.

"Quick, hop in. Francis is missing."

* * *

"I called him this morning; since he told me yesterday he would come in early to finish up that assault report. He never came in or answered my calls." Alfred explained to his co-worker, his police siren blaring and his car speeding down the street at speeds that would make a certain Italian pray for his grandpa. "I sent Matty down to check up on him and he found Francis' apartment ransacked. I knew you would be somehow enjoying one of your disgusting scones so I came to pick you up."

"I'll have you know- never mind, you sure he didn't just get too frisky with a girl he met at a bar?" Arthur offered, slightly worrying that they may be overreacting on something that would be very characteristic for the French man.

"No, it was a forced entry." The car took a sharp turn, causing the Brit to spill his tea onto his lap.

"And how the bloody hell did you come to this wonderful conclusion?" he nearly shouted in response, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"His door was reduced to nothing but splinters and a couple of unidentifiable pieces of metal. I think that counts as a forced entry in my book."

* * *

"What do you think went down here, eh?" Matthew asked the pair, Arthur standing dumbfounded at the doorway, gaping at the destruction of Francis' apartment.

"What ever happened, it wasn't pretty…" Alfred murmured out, tentatively stepping over the debris that littered the floor, leaving behind his British friend.

Pretty much everything was torn up but the kitchen sink; the couch was ripped to shred, the bookcase thrown across the room, the mirrors all smashed. As Arthur gained his composure back, he followed in the American's and Canadian's footsteps, eyeing a couple of smashed video tapes labeled the various names of women.

"His car and keys are missing. Perhaps he was gone when somebody decided to go, as you Americans say it, Chuck Norris on his room." the joke was utterly killed as it was said with a Russian accent. Ivan stepped out from one of the room, his huge hands dwarfing the camera he held.

"And not bring his phone, the lifeline of his sex life? I highly doubt that." Arthur said, pointing to the relatively undamaged ITouch lying in the debris.

"So we can rule out theft, eh?" Matthew whispered out, only earning a half nod from his brother.

Alfred looked out the shattered window, the morning sun shining brilliantly over the sea.

"Maybe whoever did this couldn't find what he was looking for and took Francis instead."

* * *

"Alfred!"

The blond turned at the shout of his name just as he was about to leave the headquarters.

"I found this in the pocket of the jacket Francis' always wears, as far as I know, he never mentioned owning one." Arthur handed Alfred an evidence bag with a small metal cylinder in it.

"A compass?" The American removed his glasses to get a better look, noticing that the red needle and fixed to point south. He turned the bag around; the back of the compass was covered with scratches as if trying to get rid of something. "Try to acid restore whatever was scratched out on the back. I'm heading back to the apartment; Ivan said he found something important."

* * *

And~ that's all I'm giving you for the first chapter. I have written all this story out and plan to type it all up. I've been busy, hetalia day's coming up and my cosplay group has been getting ready for it. So pumped aru! This fic is based off a trilogy on csi: new york called the Compass Killer. So, if you watch the episodes, or have watched them, they are spoilers for what will happen. But I did change some things around. don't worry, the chapters will get longer as they go thanks a little blue pen.

So, cya next chapter! ^.^


	2. Gears of a Lion

The Compass Kidnapper

Cold Case

"I shouldn't have done it." He muttered to himself, stumbling through the broken doorway, tearing off the tattered excuse of a glove.

He took in a deep breath of smell of stale tea lingering in the room, a vat of the liquid still sitting in the corner. He ran his bare, sweaty hands through his hair. His heart felt slightly at rest after what he did to the Frenchman.

A soft rapping sounded from one of the few doors still stand in the building.

"哥哥are you alright?"

A child's voice, too innocent to seem real, sounded from the other side

"I'm fine!" the man growled out, glaring at the door. He stalked over to the desk and ripped another piece of paper from the note pad. The voice was silenced as he began to write the second note.

"The 've…looked."

* * *

Ducking under the crime scene tape, the America gingerly stepped over the mess, making his way to the kitchen. Some of the items were bagged up and lying on the counter top, waiting to be taken to the lab.

"In the bedroom, comrade." Alfred raised an eyebrow at the location but made his way to the room nonetheless.

The blond marveled at how oblivious the neighbors were to the noise, seeing the destruction of the room alone. There was a hole punched through the wall, giving him a nice view of the adjacent closet. He didn't know whether to snicker or to be disturbed when he noticed condoms scattered across the floor, which were, thank God, still unused.

He looked up to where the Russian stood, following his gaze to Francis' torn up mattress.

"I should've asked more questions….I'm…sorry." Alfred made out from the crude letters sliced into the once soft mattress.

"This note was lying on the floor. It's just the same phrase. I was going to send it to the lab to see if we can pull any prints from it." Ivan handed the other a neat note encases in an evidence bag.

Alfred brought it up to eye level, the words scratched deep into the paper with red ink. His eyes were drawn to a pair of foreign characters at the bottom of the note, indicating the author's identity.

"哥哥."

The two turned to the unnoticed man, who stood beside them, looking at the note as well. The words rolled off his tongue in an awkward way, as if it was his first time speaking the language.

"I picked up a little Chinese during my stay with Yao-nii." Kiku, one of the uniforms appointed to keep an eye of the apartment, spoke little of his relatives. Until now, the two weren't even aware that the police man had a brother. The Japanese's eyes clouded over slightly with the resurface of a distant memory. "It means 'big brother'"

"So if the person who trashed the place was a big brother…well that narrows the list ever so slightly…"

* * *

"Hey!" Arthur jogged down the hall, giving up on his futile attempts at verbally getting the blond to stop. "Slow down you bloody wanker!"

"Yes 'master'." Alfred snapped back, sarcasm dripping from his words. Dark bags hung under his eyes, they had grown darker since the last time they met.

"When was the last time you slept?" The Brit asked in concern, his irritation thrown to the wind. He halted his running and walked up to the scowling blond.

"What's it to you?" The American grumbled out as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"That I've known you since elementary school and I know that you can do better." Arthur pulled Alfred's hands away from his bloodshot eyes, the light blue orbs widening slightly at the close proximity they were at.

The two stood in silence, both of them staring into each other's clouded windows of their souls. It had been a tough two days on the both of them, no leads or witnesses to the crime. Alfred, being the head of the team, had been getting some heat from the media and the DA for not being able to find the missing detective.

Alfred let out a small sigh and a smile, returning his eyes to their normal size and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket. "So, what was it you wanted me to know?"

"Oh! That's right…" Arthur snapped out of his slight daze and thrusted a lab report into the Amercian's chest, he looked away with a faint blush painted across his face. "I swabbed the compass for any residue and found traces of jasmine tea and opium, an illegal drug that was once widely used in China. I also had the back acid restored and found a personal engraving. And luckily for us, there was a signature at the bottom from the engraver." The Englishman explained, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I take it you have an address for me." Alfred said, examining the report that he had just peeled off his clothes.

"Yes, it's a shop two blocks from here."

"Well, let's get rolling then!" The American exclaimed, clutching onto the other's wrist and making a mad dash towards the elevator, his speed left no room for argument.

* * *

The two stood outside a small store nestled between two apartment complexes. An old fashioned cardboard 'welcome' sign hung in the window in the wooden door; it's red, painted letters welcoming the detectives in. Aruther pushed open the door, a small bell ringing at the top.

"NYPD." he flashed his badge at the clerk behind the counter; the young man stopped engraving the back of a gold watch.

"What can I do for you?" he adjusted his glasses and brushed the metal shavings into a bucket.

"Do you keep a record of ward engravings by chance?" The thick-browed man asked the clerk, eying Alfred who began to wander about the store. The American awestruck at the beautiful trinkets hung up on the walls.

"Sure right over here." The man led Arthur to a computer in the corner of the room, minimizing an unfinished essay on the desktop and pulling up a rather large document.

"It used to be our hobby in middle school." A brunette stepped out from the hallway in the back of the shop, a brown apron draped across his front. He walked over to Alfred with a pleasant smile and an outstretched hand. "Hi, I'm Torris."

"Alfred, nice to meet you." He shook the young man's hand, surprised at the other's strong grip despite to his gentle features.

"Me, Eduard," Torris gestured to the slightly older man on the computer, "and Raivis used to find pieces of wood we found suitable and bring it to my father's engraving shop. He taught us the skills of branding, etching, and engraving metal and wood. He passed away while we were in high school and left the shop to me. All three of us run it now, but my name is the one on the papers."

Alfred lingered on a faded photo of three young boys and an old man standing in front of the very store they were in, smiling at the fact that nothing seemed to change, not even the position of the "welcome" sign. His blue eyes scanned the various signs and a couple of holiday based signs that decorated the walls, most of them holding a small signature at the bottom. He could see the difference in calligraphy styles between the three of them. His eyes stayed on an odd looking table near the back of the shop.

"That table…" Alfred trailed off as he made his way towards the piece of furniture, examining the intricate display of gears ranging from the size of an M&M to as big as his face.

"We, along with my father, worked on that for over ten years. We just finished it last year, and it actually works!" Torris said with pride, jogging over to a steampunk styled air tank near it. He unlocked it with a key and turned the valve.

The blond took a small step back, pondering on the idea if the table was going to transform into some kind of robot and kill the all. The gears underneath began to move ever so slowly, gaining speed as more air flowed in. A gold plate of a medieval lion was revealed in the center as a brass circle folded away. Like eyes of a human, four circles spaced evenly around the lion slide open, each of them holding a compass. The gears did not halt, the figure of a Polish Hussar galloped around the table.

"That one, it doesn't look like it belongs there." Alfred said, his eyes instantly drawn to the only compass that was pointing south.

"That's odd, I never noticed that." The Lithuanian murmured, shutting off the valve, the Hussar stopping in mid gallop. He retrieved a suction cup glass holder from behind the counter, lifting up the glass. Alfred quickly removed the compass with a gloved hand, making sure not to smear any possible finger prints.

"Do you have video surveillance?" Alfred asked, rotating the compass to confirm that the needle was indeed stuck; the red needle remained stationary.

"No, we're in a good neighborhood and we got some friends who live directly across the street. They're cops and watch the store in case of any conflict." Torris answered nervously, getting a feeling that whatever caused the other's voice to be so serious was something more than a petty theft.

"We got a hit." Arthur announced, catching the attention of Torris while Alfred stayed locked on the compass in his hand. "A single person had two compasses engraved. The one we have reads 'You're smart-"

"But too slow." Alfred finished, reading the engraving on the other side of the compass he pulled from the table.

* * *

Omg, finished! Yay~ thanks to those who were willing to wait while I typed this guy out. I just join Drill Team with Arms at my school and have been dead tired training with a 15 pound rifle. But anyways, I had great fun at hetalia day and am still waiting for England to post up the damn photos so I can send them in and begin editing. But in the meantime, I hope you guys are enjoying the fic! Also, I may be slow on updating since I am about to start a large youtube hetalia 'Blame it on the cosplay" compilation vid. Going to open it up somewhere in November and edit it over winter break. Dun you steal my ideas! Or I shall have Russia kolkolkol you all =DDDD but, be on the lookout for that as I trudge along with my typical teenage shot-attention span and hope to keep my grades up to Asian standards! 'til next time aru!

Of course, I had to insert some 'romance' between Alfred and Arthur, even if you didn't pick it up. But I am more directed at the relationship of family within Alfred's team and between two certain people I will reveal in time ^.^

Any mistakes you catch is the fault of =.=; i went over this chapter a couple of times to check for mistakes. i caught a few that were cause by the transfer aru .


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